Shock
by Interstella
Summary: Sherlock's world gets turned upside down when he begins receiving emails from a man that claims to be another Sherlock from an alternate reality. What happens when these two men converse, or even, when they meet. Sherlock/Sherlock pairing with Sherlock/John aspects. Rated M for later chapters. Converted Tumblr Roleplay. Links to tumblr on my profile page.
1. Concerning John

Shock

Chapter 1 – Concerning John

It started when Sherlock had received a strange message, one from a man, claiming to be another him from another world. It seemed impossible to imagine. Yet, Sherlock found himself curious. He exchanged emails with him, sometimes more than once a day, sometimes only once a week. At first the other him was simply curious, what was different in his world, how had their lives taken different roles?

Then, one day, out of the blue, he received one question that would set into motion a spiral of events that would change his life forever.

_'Tell me about your John.'_

Well, that was a strange request. How was he supposed to answer that? Didn't this Sherlock have a John Watson also? Surely he did, otherwise he wouldn't have asked about 'his' John.

_'Why should I tell you about him? He's brave, and that makes him an idiot. Yet, he's tolerable and useful, so that makes him a good acquisition._

_He cares. He makes good coffee and he loses it with me, more often than not. But he's still around. Surprisingly so.  
He's got much more in him than what he gives himself credit for. He's better than what he judges himself to be. A good man and a true friend._

_That's John._

_My John…'_

He sent off his reply, curious about what he would get back. It came, only minutes later- faster than what he was used to.

_'Sounds very much like the John in my universe. Tell me, does he still insist on dating useless, boring women? I am trying to find a way to kick that habit of his. It's proving difficult.'_

Sherlock chuckled lightly, receiving a strange look from the man sitting on the chair opposite him. He ignored John in favour of replying to his unseen other.

'_Unfortunately,__yes.__He__'__s__dreadfully__attached__to__those.__I__'__ve__been__trying__my__best,__sometimes__I__sabotage__his__dates,__other__times,__when__the__sabotaging__doesn__'__t__work__-__which__is__rare__but__it__still__happens__-__I__come__up__with__some__ '__personal__drama__'__.__He__always__leaves__them__to__attend__to__me._

_Well… almost always…_'

He thought back to that time, almost three days ago where John had flatly refused to return to the flat to help him with his experiment. It was something minor, something non-life threatening, something that could wait. But still, it had hurt.

_'I believe between the two of us, the two most powerful minds in as many universes, we should be able to come up with a solution to this problem. It is difficult, with him maintaining his heterosexuality. If he were more flexible we could simply fulfil the needs he seems to have in all aspects, leaving him free to remain with us at all times._

_Perhaps all we need to do is waver that resolve. Any suggestions?'_

Sherlock blinked at the screen. That fast. Still smirking, he read over the email, his laptop balanced precariously on his knees. Fulfil all his needs? Well, didn't that sound interesting.

Still balancing his laptop, he quickly typed out a reply.

_'I don't know about you, but I've came to realize that I don't want him to be with anyone who is not me. I am aware that that's selfish. But I'm Sherlock Holmes. And according to John I'm a selfish consulting five-year-old. What bothers me, though, is that I am aware of the implications. I'm aware that the fact that I want him to not be with other people means that somewhere along the way I've developed deeper feelings for him._

_And as much as it pains me to admit it, that rather frightens me. Any normal person would say that I should act upon my feelings. But we both now how Sentiment and Holmes are two separate universes altogether. How can I act upon what I feel for him (which I'm yet not comfortable enough to label) if I have made the possibles and impossibles to keep myself divorced from feelings ever since I can remember?'_

Sherlock re-read his email before sending it. It was rather open for him, he supposed, but then, if you can't be honest with yourself, who can you be honest with? And even if this man turned out not to be himself, they had been communicating for the last several months, and he'd already built up some trust.

Some.

The next reply was a little longer than what he'd been receiving lately. He moved himself into a more comfortable position, leaning back on the seat with his laptop more securely on his lap. A fresh cup of tea had appeared by his elbow and he blinked at it before looking up at John, a soft smile on his face.

He turned back to the computer and read the email.

_'I have a perfect understanding of your situation, it is the same as the one that I am currently in. Lestrade, the Lestrade in my world, has noticed. (Now I regret having taught him the basics of observation) and he has suggested that I speak with John and tell him more or less what you just stated._

_However I am afraid that that would interfere with the work. Without the work, I am nothing. It is what keeps me entertained, it keeps me thriving, it keeps me sober._

_I doubt that even John Watson could replace that._

_And John is a physical creature by nature. He is driven, as most men are, by the sensations of the flesh. How can I tell him, that I have never craved such sensations? That the only experience of such 'baser drives' that I have comes from my days as an addict-just one more resource to gain a fix?_

_I believe he would take offence at that. Or become concerned. Either outcome is undesirable. _

_I have been contemplating splicing his tea with monk pepper, but I am unsure as to what side-effects this could have aside from a reduced libido. And he didn't take too kindly to my efforts to drug him while on a case previously. _

_I am quickly running out of excuses for keeping him around. Though I am loathed to, I may ask Mycroft for help in removing his current interest (Becky? Emily Something. I don't want to remember). Though I would prefer to ask for your aid than his.'_

Sherlock read through the email, his eyes scanning the page as he re-read it for a second time. Part of him felt guilty, like he was reading somebody's diary, but then, the person to whom the diary belongs was himself.

That made it alright, right?

_'It's like a blind asking advice from a deaf. And I'm uncomfortable because I know, for a fact, that he is in a particularly intimate (and apparently serious) relationship with the daughter of one of his father's army colleagues. Something Morstan, I believe. I've tried the usual and it didn't work._

_'Maybe I have to stop being so reluctant about other people touching me? If I think about that, I am completely, absolutely, utterly repelled by the sheer thought of people touching me… most likely because our shared history with drugs and the low levels we've reached to satiate our cravings. But the thought of John touching me…_

'See, every time we go out in a case, one of us (namely me) always ends up bleeding. A punch in the face, a stab wound, a trip-and-fall, every time is something different. And although I'm reluctant about being touched, when John takes care of me (he does that) I feel myself relax. Even more so than it would probably be deemed normal to the hands of your doctor/best friend/flatmate/colleague.

_'And I share your concern for the Work. I still consider myself married to my work, but I have to admit that ever since John and I started working together, the Work has improved drastically. Cases flow almost every two days. And I've told him as much. He isn't brilliant (not in our level at least) but as a conductor of light he is indispensable. And I thoroughly believe that my work would decay, should he leave me alone to have his dull little life, with a dull little woman and all that boring nonsense.'_

He sat there, after hitting 'send', twiddling his fingers and tapping his thigh. He sat staring at the computer, hitting refresh over and over, finding himself anticipating the next reply. He couldn't help it, this man was enthralling. He glanced up and noticed John staring at him with raised eyebrows.

"What?"

"Nothing." John said, in a tone that spoke lies. "Just wondering if we have a case. You seem really interested in the computer lately."

"No. No case." Sherlock refused to elaborate as a beep sounded from his computer, telling him that he has a new message.

'_Ah.__Mary.__Yes,__I__am__aware__of__her.__Unfortunately.__As__for__the__touching__thing.__I__have__always__had__problems__with__people__touching__me__in__the__past-there__are__very__few__who__are__able__to__manage__it__without__reprimand.__John__is__among__those__few._

_He hugged me once. When I returned from my…absence. It was much nicer than I had imagined. If it wasn't for Mary I doubt I would have let him go._

_John has told me, just yesterday that he intends to marry her. Hence my request to you for advice. Though I am still woefully unsure of how to approach him._

Perhaps I should simply explain all of this to him- though I do believe it may be too late. It will do nothing but offend him now. He will no doubt see it as a ploy to get him to stray from Mary.'

Marry her? Sherlock glanced at John accusingly, as if it was him that had spoken. But wait, what, absence? That didn't track. Sherlock couldn't think of any significant time that he'd spent apart from John since he'd met him, nothing to denote the description 'absence'. Was this one of the things that were different in his world?

Ignoring John's indignant glare, he typed out a reply. He needed clarification.

_'What__do__you__mean__your__absence__?__You__'__ve__been__absent?__Why?__And__why__should__you__concerned__about__Mary__when__he__hugged__you?__Why__did__you__ever__let__go?__I__would__give__anything__to__be__in__your__place.__I__wouldn__'__t__even__ask__for__a__hug__anymore.__I__'__d__only__ask__for__him__to__stop__looking__at__me__as__if__I__were__some__kind__of__two-headed__snake._

_'I must've done something wrong recently, because he's been avoiding me. Maybe he's grown tired of me. Everyone does, sooner or later. It wouldn't be a surprise if John was included in that god forsaken and ever growing list._

_'John would say to dive in… head first, come clean, say it like you have nothing to lose. I bet he doesn't know just how much I do have to lose if things don't go according to expectations. And as far as I'm concerned, I prefer to have John as close friend, than to bugger it all and lose him and don't have John at all.'_

The reply, when it came, was not something that Sherlock had been expecting, but it did shed some light on things.

_'I faked my death. Jumped off the roof of Saint Barts. It was to save him, but I think there was irreparable damage done due to the fact that he watched me and that I was gone for three years. It was during this time that he met Mary._

_John isn't the type to push you aside, at least, my John isn't. He's probably worried about your reaction to something. He did something similar just before he told me of his engagement._

_He wants me to be his best man. I'm not sure if I can handle that. But the alternative… I spent three years without him. Three years that he was alive, he was reachable and I couldn't. To reach out to him, to contact him would only ensure his death. Only after I subdued Moran, Moriarty's right hand man, did it become safe for me to return._

_I only know that I cannot go through that again._

_Though I do have an idea, I'm not entirely sure that it would work, and I would prefer to have your permission. I would also recommend that you do the same._

_Show him this correspondence. Let our communication explain the things that we cannot.'_

Could that be it? Was that why John would barely say anything to him? Over the last few days, John had been more and more absent. Usually, when neither of them had a case, they would sit together in the living room, John typing excruciatingly slowly on his keyboard, updating his blog, and Sherlock normally running an experiment or two, or three, depending on his level of boredom.

Recently however...

This was the first time in three days that they had been in the same room between cases. John had been hiding himself inside his room, or more often than not, spending his time over at Mary's residence. Sherlock was beginning to feel like the third wheel-which was something that had never happened with John before.

He re-read the email, thinking what the other Sherlock had said over. A _three year_ absence? Sherlock wasn't sure if he could do that. But then...it was to protect John. From Moriarty.

Sherlock began to write as he thought.

'_Moriarty.__Always__Moriarty._

"_Wait is that it? Is that his plan? Forcing me to leave? Break me by pulling me away from what I most value in life? Oh he is good. He really is. So that's how he's planning to burn me? He's going to make me watch John mourn me, he's going to make me sit back and watch as he remakes his life with someone else._

_Thank you for the head's up, by the way._

_And yes. I believe that 'accidentally' leaving these around will tempt him into understanding the nature of my… our feelings towards our respective Johns. The question is… what will change?_

_Will your John leave his Mary? Will my John leave his? Although not as advanced, his relationship with Mary does seem to be rather serious.'_

He sat there, staring at the blinking courser with increasing agitation. There was more to write, wasn't there? More to say, more questions to ask. What exactly _was_ Moriarty's plan? This would be affective, moreso if Sherlock hadn't got a warning. But... That couldn't be all, could it?

With a frustrated sigh, Sherlock hit send.

Waiting for the next reply was like a form of torture, and Sherlock didn't even notice John getting up and heading to his bedroom.

His inbox beeped and Sherlock looked at it, watching as the computer seemed to take a century to load the message. Surely the program was faster than that...

_'I don't think that they will leave Mary. If there is one thing that John is, it's loyal. He will, however be willing to talk. To listen. Less likely to leave right away. I believe my John is inclined to move out._

_I can't let that happen. John is now detrimental to my emotional, and often physical well-being._

_If Moriarty tries the same thing with you, I have one suggestion to make. Don't let John watch. I thought that it would cause his reaction to be more genuine, the sniper would believe without a doubt that I was dead an therefore leave John alone. But…it was watching me fall… Being there when I "hit" the ground that caused him the most pain._

_He still has nightmares.'_

As he read through the message, images popped into his mind, John watching him fall, his face falling as his own body hurtled towards the ground, the panic, the fear, the pain. No. He would learn from the other Sherlock's mistake. John would never have to see that. Never.

One line stuck out to him- '_He still has nightmares'_. Glancing up, he now noticed John wasn't around, he was in his room. He eyed the closed door for a moment before typing, his hands shaking slightly. Was it cold? Winter was nearly there, the heaters should be on...

_'Stop. Don't… Just stop. In the end you managed to save him, Sherlock. I'd call that a result._

_I still hear my John scream in the middle of the night. More often than not. We never talk about it, but I think he transported me to his nightmares. I've heard him screaming my name once. I don't want to hear that again._

_And you are right. John is loyal. But who is he loyal to? Mary or us? If there is a chance, tiny as it may be, that John returns our feelings, then do you think that Mary stands a chance?'_

He had hope. He could _only_ hope.

Biting his lip, he reached for his long-cooled tea and took a sip, hardily caring that it was no longer palatable. He just wanted the reply.

'_I__think__he__'__ll__be__loyal__to__her.__At__least__my__John__will__be.__He__'__s__already__chosen__her.__He__will__tell__me__that,__as__always,__my__timing__is__bad__and__that__I__should__have__said__something__earlier,__and__that__he__'__s__with__Mary__now._

_I know that he loves me, on some level, but he is not gay. Mary is a woman. She has automatically won, without ever having to fight for him._

_I can't let him leave though. I simply cannot survive without him. Not sober, any way. You probably know as well as I do the temptation of the seven percent. If he leaves me…_

_No. I can't let that happen. I will fight for him. And you should too. Fight for your John before it's too late, before you have to leave. Give him /something/ good to hold onto._

_Even if it's just your words and the knowledge that you would do anything for him.'_

As he read it, his heart sank. This man, this _Sherlock_ was right. John wouldn't choose him over her. He wouldn't. His fear manifested, he had to stop it, had to focus on another emotion... Anger! Anger would work. And..hope?

_'Sherlock, do not embarrass me. I seriously, honestly can't believe in what you just said._

"_John's not gay."_

_Okay, I will stop you right there, and if I had John's gun I would be target-practicing on you. I don't know about your John, but mine says that he's "not gay."_

_He just says that He. Is. Not. Gay._

_I never heard him saying that he is straight._

_Ever._

Not once.

_Zilch._

_So that is a lousy excuse. Now, I know me. I may know you. And yes, I do agree that life without John would be like a roller-coaster without breaks. But I am not a quitting type of man (which was a hard thing to overcome with our seven-percent friend), and if John did something positive to me was to keep me going. Keep me fighting._

_He's a soldier. He does that._

_And I don't know about you, but I'll let him know. I'll give him a choice and I will tell him that I will wait._

_If he chooses her then…_

_For__me,__there__'__s__still__the__needle.__'_

Hands still shaking, he hit the send button, realizing that it had, at some point, gone dark. He ignored it and continued to stare at his computer and drink his cold tea as he waited for a response.

It came almost a full hour later. He had just about given up hope, just about decided that the man had had his fun, toying with his emotions, that he wouldn't reply tonight, if at all.

But then, just as he was about to turn his computer off, his inbox chimed. It was with some trepidation that he opened the email.

_'I admit, your response caused me to pause for thought. You are correct. John has never claimed to be straight, simply "not gay". With his army background, there is a good chance that he has experimented previously._

_But then, why does he so adamantly refute the idea that he and I are more than friends?_

_None the less, you are right. As always. I will not let him go, not easily. I will fight for him. But first, I will talk with him. Explain this to him. Tell him the difficulty to which I find expressing my emotional needs. John will understand why I did not tell him this earlier. He'll have to._

_You will let me know how your conversation with your John goes? I find I am quite curious about the parallels between our lives.'_

That had him smiling. It sounded so like him, yet not. The odd word, a turn of phrase here and there. It made this seem more...real somehow.

_'I like to be right. It makes me happy._

_And about his stubborn protectiveness over his non-homosexuality, there is a simple reason, I believe. Looking back, the first night spent with John, while we were working on the 'Study in Pink' case (I can't believe I just referred to it like that) we went to have dinner at Angelo's. There was a rather awkward situation. I thought he was asking me out. And I promptly turned him down, saying that I was married to my work._

_I believe that John took that seriously. I believe that he doesn't want me (or us) to be uncomfortable with the idea that he was, indeed, asking me out. I think that the fact that he's thirty-seven and living alone with another man isn't helping that either._

_People talk. That's what people do. Little-minded idiots that take pleasure in speculating about other's lives._

_I will tell you about my meeting with John. I you promise to tell me how yours goes.'_

He sent the message and the reply came quickly again.

_'Ah, yes. I remember that night. Big mistake. Had I known then, what I know now, I would have stayed silent, or even accepted. I will be sure to bring that up with John._

_Do__you__find__it__remarkable,__that__of__all__the parallelnworlds__out__there,__you__and__I__would__find__a__way__to correspond. There__must__be__a__great__many__Sherlock__Holmes__out__there__who__are__straight__(which__I__am__decidedly__not-I__don__'__t__know__about__you,__but__I__find__the__idea__of__being _with_a__woman__grotesque).__Or__ones__who__have__simply__never__met__John__Watson._

_I__have__even__ encountered __a__few_Joan_Watsons__in__my__time._

_Yet you and I, two Sherlock Holmes, have both found another to converse with that also, dare I say it, find themselves in love with our dear Doctor Watson… I would calculate the chances, but honestly, I am far too lazy for that. I have bigger things to think on.'_

Sherlock chuckled at that. _Joan_ Watson? Well that would be strange indeed. He tried to picture John as a woman and failed. Even an imagination as strong as he couldn't comprehend it. No. John was John. But even should he encounter John as a woman, would he still be interested?

It did leave him thinking.

_'I don't think of myself as a sexual person. I've never even as much as 'wanked one through' - as John so eloquently put it. My libido seemed to have roused with him. I'm not gay, because I don't feel attracted to other men. I'm not straight because I don't feel attracted to women either. It's just him. Just John._

_I guess I'm Johnsexual._

_I have heard of a couple of Joans/Johannas/Janes too. Parallel worlds are rather funny._

_I pity those of us that never met John. Just as much as I envy them._

_As far as Parallel Worlds are concerned. I believe ours to be very close to the other. The only difference I found so far was your encounter with Jim Moriarty and your hiatus. Maybe, if we cared to put our heads to it, we could arrange a way to hop from one world to another._

_Right now, however, I must confess I'm tired, to tired to go through that kind of mental gymnastics.'_

And he was. Tired that was. He had been yawning while typing, his eyes aching from prolonged exposure to the computer screen. Yet this was fascinating. Amazing and terrifying at the same time. What if it was real? What if this Sherlock really was another him?

He was about to call it a night and nap on the sofa when another message pinged through.

_'There do seem to be other slight differences in our pasts. For one, I have been attracted to men before. It has never worked very well, and never lasted. Before John, there were only a hand full of men, none of them stimulated my intellect nor emotions._

_In that regard, we are the same. Only John can create this particular mixture of hormones in my brain._

_As for 'hopping' from one world to another, I have heard of people managing this, though their claims are yet to be verified. Many of them have spoken of a rift in space/time. I have a contact who may know more about this. I will speak with her and report to you what she says._

_There may be a version of her on your side, it could be prudent for you to seek her out. Her name is Gwen Cooper. She currently (in my world at least) runs the Torchwood institute, having temporarily taken over quite recently from a man named Jack Harkness (captain). If you can find either of them, they may know of a way for us to meet in person.'_

Torchwood...why was that familiar? Oh! Weren't they a branch of the Welsh police? Those who dealt with the stranger crimes? Sherlock had heard of them, but never really interacted with them. Usually when Torchwood came to town, whoever was previously working the case would be unceremoniously booted out on their arses.

_'I've heard about Torchwood before, I believe. I'm not sure I will manage to get in contact with them,but in case I do, I'll let you know. It would be… nice, I believe, if we could pop in each other's worlds. Although something tells me that playing with that kind of ability is rather dangerous._

_Again, something to investigate in the near future. Probably after my conversation with John (which I am ashamed to say is scaring me quite a lot).'_

Right...that was it. He would give the other Sherlock an hour to reply then... then he would go to sleep if he hadn't.

An hour passed.

Then another.

And another.

And finally, Sherlock decided to sleep.


	2. Concerning John Part 2

Shock – Concerning John Part 2

AN: Sorry that this is short- but it /had/ to end there for it to work properly. This is the last part to the first part of the story. There is SO much more to go. SO much. It just takes a little for me to get around to changing it from roleplay format to story format. Instead of it being from two povs I have to get it down to one. Meaning I have to re-write literally half of it. So the next chapter will be even longer coming. Sorry again.

If you would like to ask anything about it, or maybe even read some of the unpolished parts then ask me for a link, or find us on Tumblr (user names: cravingdeduction and sherlockholmmes).

– – – SHOCK – – –

_I apologize for the delay in my correspondence, and the brief length that this shall be._

_I spoke to John._

_He's moving out._

_The wedding is next week._

_I'm still invited._

_I'm not sure whether or not I should go, but John has assured me that, no matter what, I am still his best friend. I believe the current term is "friendzoned". He was angry, very angry at first. He believed that it was once again another attempt for me to 'interfere with his relationship'. It took me twenty minutes to convince him otherwise._

_Then, even worse than the anger, the pity._

_This was two days ago. Suffice to say my last forty-two hours were spent decidedly /not/ sober. This did not help John's mood. Instead of anger, he was 'disappointed' and insisted that Mycroft send me to rehab again._

_When I came home, half his possessions had already been removed._

_Suffice to say, I have not yet contacted Torchwood._

The email was sitting there, on his computer when finally set it up. He stared at it for an hour, then another, wondering how he could even articulate his response. He felt numb. Empty.

Slowly, he started to type.

_John and I have a silent agreement with each other. Whenever he breaks up with one of his girlfriends, or, more often than not, they break up with him, we have what I came to call a Post-Girlfriend Reflection Night._

_It basically consists in an uncommonly silent John making me dinner and tea, and settling down next to me on the couch as we watch crap telly until we fall asleep. No words (except mine when I shout abuse at the telly), no discussions, just food and company and sometimes, a smile._

_It first happened after Sarah. And from then on it has been a thing that regularly occurs after yet another failed relationship._

_This time was no different. John came home and started making dinner and I fell into the mistake of feeding the bubble of joy that was bubbling up in my stomach._

_Little did I know that this was also his way of 'breaking up' with me. We ate, we sat in front of the telly and he started to talk._

_He was not supposed to talk._

_He said that he was asking Mary to marry him._

_And I blurted it all out. It came out in an inconsistent and embarrassingly incoherent mass of babbling and after a well-aimed punch to my face, he started shouting abuse at me._

_I can't really blame him, but I do know what you mean about sobriety and how absent it was after the argument._

_Needless to say that Mycroft and Mother alike have me locked up in my old childhood room at the Holmes Manor in Sussex._

_I'm sorry about your John, Sherlock. I guess Holmes and happiness just don't go together._

Hands shaking, Sherlock read over his response before resolutely hitting the 'send' button.

Staring out of the window, he waited for another reply.

_I am sorry. Though you are quite lucky for the fact that you still have mummy. My mother died when I was still young. Unfortunately, it was my fault._

_But we can get more into that later. Right now, I do have something that may alleviate your loneliness (and don't try telling me that you're not lonely without John. I know as well as you do that there will never be another like him.)_

_Last week, I was allowed to contact my "cousin" Gwen. I need your exact co-ordinates and I believe I can cross the barrier between our realities. I traced the signal of our communication and found the gap._

_Gwen has loaned me Jack's vortex manipulator (and though the temporal shift is broken), which acts like a transporter (I'm not sure if your John has insisted you watch Star Trek or not, but if not, you can google it. I can't be bothered to explain how it works)._

_Suffice to say, I can arrive at any time you're willing to house me and leave whenever you like. But I need the co-ordinates. Preferably the garden (I don't want to accidentally materialize in a wall…)_

Sherlock looked at the message and frowned. He didn't have the exact co-ordinates, but he was sure that Sherlock would know where he was if he gave a specific building he might be able to find him.

_I'm not lucky to have **Mother**. Believe me, if I had an option I'd switch places with you in that matter. I could give you my mother if you're so eager for one, though I wouldn't wish that curse over anyone, much less over another me._

_I'm glad you found a way. As I'm sure I've mentioned in my previous letter, I'm currently stuck in Sussex. I don't know if you had had a childhood home in here, but in case you did, and in case you know the area as well as I do, then you must know that clearing near the lake where I (we?) used to go and ride on my mare. And if you know the area as well as I do, then you know the exact coordinates of it._

I am allowed to leave the house, but I don't have access to any means of transportation. Except Calla, the mare. Tell me if the clearing is good enough of a place. Whenever you want to come you are welcome.

_And don't worry. If you materialize in a tree, I promise to invest in a top market irrigation system._

_I'll be waiting for you._

And there it was. Possibly the last email to be sent trans-dimentionally. He swallowed, reading over it one more time before sending. Now would be when he finds out if there was any truth to this or not. Now would be when he met... himself.

This would prove to be interesting. Very interesting indeed and it may actually decrease the boredom of this oppressive house.

– – –

The clearing was in a slightly different place in this reality to where Sherlock was used to it, and instead of landing safely on the grass, he landed several feet in the air-above the lake.

Climbing out of the water, he grimaced as he looked down at his now ruined suit and sighed softly. Opening a panel on the vortex manipulator that was strapped to his wrist, he sent off another message.

"I am in the clearing. Bring towels. -SH"

He had to wonder about this. Was it really a good idea to meet himself? Even if it was another version of him, with a slightly different past, was it egotistical to think that perhaps this was the only person in all the realms would could understand him and his recent heartbrake?

Looking down to his clothed arm, he thought of the new track marks that were there. Three weeks sober and it was still painful enough to want to go right back to a drugged out bliss.

A gust of wind caught his sodden clothing and caused him to shiver. Looking around, he noticed a low hanging branch of a nearby tree and sat on it, waiting for his other self to appear.

– – –

Un-beta'd. Any mistakes are more than likely mine.

Please review. Both Mia and I love them.


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